


we've got a long way to go

by Izzerslololol



Series: don't waste time [1]
Category: Star Wars Legends: Republic Commando Series - Karen Traviss
Genre: Because of Reasons, Crack Treated Seriously, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Gen, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 15:34:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10834179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Izzerslololol/pseuds/Izzerslololol
Summary: Sometimes the promise of mid-space collisions are all a man needs to keep going. Mereel, for one, has no idea where any of this might lead, but he's happy enough to oblige Boss whenever asked nicely.





	1. Shiver : Our muses trying to stay warm

**Author's Note:**

> This ship, borne out of far too many late nights and extensive interactions between two writers with two characters who barely ever interacted on-screen in text, has enough drabbles and stand-alones to, I think, deserve its own tag. I know, I know. Mereel and Boss? Really?
> 
> But, for whatever reason, it works ... or works well enough to share these drabbles. Most of them are blink-and-miss moments, but hell, that's part of the fun, right?
> 
> Most of these are written from prompts. Prompts will be in the chapter titles, I suppose.
> 
> One day I'll properly backdate all of my drabbles. Today is not that day.

Mereel held nothing against the rain. He’d flash-learned of planets that were dry, and he imagined they were nice, but he held no personal distaste for particular types of weather. Not while he’d watched the simulated training regimen of the commando companies from his comfortable harness a death’s-drop above.

That’s what his brothers called it. Sometimes Kom’rk joined him to watch, and they’d hang quiet in the dark above the sniper training programs. Mereel enjoyed watching, more-so than smuggled holos from Republic Space by one of the _Cuy’val Dar,_ and for the most part he meant it. Kom’rk didn’t really let on how he felt about it either way.

But earlier in the day he found himself alone, and Mereel felt _itchy_. Felt like he needed a _closer_ perspective.

So.

“What do you want?” The commando’s voice broke the silence in his helmet.

“Ooh.” Were he a lesser man, his teeth would have chattered. Soaked straight through the _ghillie_ in simulated snow and nightfall. But he’d been through the rounds before, passed with stripes. “A little sensitive, aren’t you?”

Interesting. He didn’t think he’d alerted the commando to his presence—or eavesdropped on his private channel. He must have guessed the null listened in. Other commandos in the past hadn’t responded well to his presence, at all.

Mereel _liked_ this one. He discretely queued his suit’s systems and pinged a check on the commando’s ID.

“I know you Nulls are a little _off_ in the head, but I’m in the middle of something.”

Mereel snorted and resisted the urge to dig a little deeper into the broken ground. The ghillie suits were great to break up the outline of their bodies, blend into the surroundings, but his did nothing for the pouring rain, or the _endurance_ portion of the test—certain sections of the life-support had to be switched off to avoid scans, and that meant no private climate control.

“Scores are impressive,” he tried. He hadn’t expected one of Vau’s to dignify his presence with conversation, either.

“Not for nothing.” He could hear the smirk in the commando’s voice an arm’s width away from him. “Don’t think you’re cleared to lay eyes on _that_ , though.”

“Just paying thanks for letting me _chill out_ with you, _ner vod._ ” The foreign slang left a strange twist on his tongue.

“Right.” Pause. “As long as you don’t draw attention to us and muck up my clean stats.”

Mereel grinned. “Don’t suppose you want to hold hands and sing songs, hm?”

A huff was all he received in response.

“Didn’t think so.” Mereel edged against relaxing just yet. There were a few hours to go still, and he’d already pushed the line of safe.

“How’d you find me?”

Ah. That was the question, wasn’t it.

He decided to go with honesty: “Didn’t. Accidentally picked up your channel on the way up.” He chewed the thought. “It’s a good spot. Better than where I was headed.”

“Right.”

He wasn’t sure if the other believed him. Ah, well. Too bad if he didn’t.

“I can’t make you leave,” the other started.

“Ask nicely and I’ll go,” Mereel offered. “Have to wait until the next round of scanners pass though.”

“Are the other Nulls…?”

The crack of thunder above and sudden increase of rain drowned out the words, but he’d understood.

“Just me.”

Another huff. The rain fell in thick blobs and clumps of slush that splashed over the broken muck and ice and snow. The next round of scans inched closer with the countdown on Mereel’s HUD.

“Might as well take your time, then.”

Mereel grinned and settled in. It was going to be a long night.


	2. Nyx : my character has a dream about yours

From over the east swept a warm wind through the green field of tall grains, trembling its song as it gathered up puffs of white and red to scatter into the air. Twin planets locked in eternal dance parted the horizon in long, elegant arcs of fading violet and blue, their faces soft and melting into the silk of navy night sky. The tide of morning fog shifted, rising and falling in waves of lavender haze, in harmony with the whims of the wind.

The first long tendrils of a rising red star swelled from its nest to kiss the fringe of retreating navy sky, arms of light outstretched in unanswered prayer that scattered its yearning in morning light.

Strokes of shivering grain felt as satin between Mereel’s fingertips. The weight of the earth beneath his shoulders gripped him close to the heart of the ground, dissipating his ache to stand with the warm breeze’s gentle sighs.

He could not move, and found he did not wish to.

Through the small of his back and the base of his skull thrummed the heady thumps of movement replicated by the soil from further in the field. With every pulse grew a twist of fire that bowed the grain and turned away the heavens.

“You took a blow to the head,” it crackled as it consumed the morning sun and warped the twins and stars. “Medic said it’s safe to move you, so I’m moving you.”

Mereel felt the ash fall upon his skin and released him from his embrace with the ground.

“You’re not as warm as you look.” He couldn’t stop the words that tumbled out into the fire.

“ _Haran._ This again.” Cinder snowed down from the twist to part him from the field in the firm grip of orange painted hands. “It’s going to be a long walk.”


	3. This is gonna be good

Mereel couldn’t check a single secure message from out of Kyrimorut, but that was to be expected when dancing just outside the Empire’s reach across the stars. Despite the silence on his end, he knew his _vode_ knew not to worry. He’d had his own channel set up to tag in case of emergencies, if he was ever compromised.

He had yet to get close.

Touchdown on Mandalore took more effort with every exit and re-entry, as the days (and weeks, and months) he’d worked translated to more time for the Imperial posting planet-side to grow.

Few more excursions he might not have found it possible to leave… or return. But that was a worry best kept for another time.

Only after he’d breached atmosphere did his secure comm-line ping and let him know he had unread messages built up—none of them listed urgent. Now that he was home, it seemed pointless to check.

The hike to the Skirata home, after setting up the camo-screen over his ship, took about an hour. As he walked, the clear skies closed to the night, and dusted a fine layer of snow over the landscape. His pack dug into his shoulder with every step, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. He just wanted to get warm. Maybe eat something sweet.

The door to the home opened under his hands, knowing the codes by heart, and he stepped inside. The loud, bustling activity that crowded the entry and main room quieted.

“ _N’olaro yaim,_ ” he said. _I’m home._ “Anyone missed me?”

A sea of backs, armored and otherwise, faced him. Seconds passed as they slowly parted on the approach of a set of orange accented armor, helmet tucked under an arm, and a face so alike and yet so totally different to his own stared back at him.

“I might.”

Mereel froze. Heart choked and throat closed. Muscles stiffened and primed for fight or flight.

The pack dropped from his shoulder to the floor. A chill followed him into the home, skirted past his ankles and blew snow into the entryway.

He swallowed.

Opened his mouth. The roaring in his ears trapped the words in his chest. He clicked his teeth shut. Lips compressed. Squeezed his fists on empty. Swallowed again.

Pressure built behind his eyes and he couldn’t see.

Boss took another step forward, and stopped just beyond his arm’s reach.

Mereel bridged the gap, and _slammed_ his fist into the armor plate at his _vod_ ’s abdomen. A slight _oof_ escaped. He couldn’t be sure which one of them said it.

His knuckles hurt.

A gasp ripped through the quiet from beyond his field of vision.

He reared back to hit him again. His gloves weren’t even plated. _What am I doing?_

His _vod_ caught his hand in an orange-tinted glove and deflected the next blow, and _pulled_ Mereel into an embrace.

The armored plates _clacked_ against the armor at over his chest. The tide of anger left him in a rush of air out his lungs and he sagged, dropped his face into the armored crook where the neck met the shoulder.

He choked down air, eyes dry, faintly disconnected—as if he looked in on himself from outside.

“You were dead,” he said to the _beskar._

“Not dead.” He felt the words rumble through the only support that kept him standing. “Just out of it for a while.”

“Oh,” Mereel said. “Oh.”

And then he laughed. And laughed.

And _laughed._

His arms hooked around the man and he pawed at the back-plate, grasping for purchase, and squeezed. Brain on auto, stomach on empty, he couldn’t think of a thing to say.

So he said it again. “ _Oh._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full prompt since it was a little long: This is gonna be good - my character learns your character is in fact alive after believing they were long dead.


	4. O Hal : our characters doing something rebellious together.

“What are you doing?”

“Well… it said _Do Not Jump_.”

The Imperial compound loomed over the rest of the crowded residential block: a clean white tower that threatened the city-moon into obedience. Any breach in security meant serious repercussions to those that headed the operation on the planet, and would give some breathing room to the rebels looking to secure a stealthed foothold in the region, due to its location.

It was, as Mereel had described, _a hop-and-a-skip_ from a main hyperlane, and _a stone’s throw_ from a major bacta distributor. Boss couldn’t place Mereel’s fascination with the use of foreign slang, so he hadn’t bothered to try. The meaning had been clear enough, anyway.

That those foreign phrases brought them to the penthouse-level of the aforementioned compound, with a jury-rigged security field the only barrier between them and the Spaarti _not-brothers_ that were on their way to deal with them…

In hindsight, he should’ve known better than to accompany Mereel on a _stroll._ His idea of _strolls,_ and _dances_ and _partying,_ were so far from consistent with the actual _meaning of those words_ that Boss didn’t know what, exactly, he had expected in the first place.

Not that he was one to talk, with the way Delta Squad operated in the past.

“So that means… jump?”

Mereel shrugged, the ‘chute already strapped to his back and the heavy-weapon he was so fond of secured to his lower body.

Boss didn’t look much different, he knew.

“Worst case scenario.” Mereel adjusted the straps around his chest.  ”We’re not heavy enough to beat the wind and we splat against the tower.”

“I think worst-case-scenario is the field behind us dropping,” he deadpanned as he placed one boot on the edge and looked down. ”While we discuss the hazards of this already unbelievable situation.”

“Good point,” Mereel nodded, stepped back, and took a running leap off the edge. He flipped, laughing as he went, boots over head. “ _Oya._ ”

“ _Dini’la di’kut._ ” Boss watched him go with a sigh, and followed suit. Without the excessive flip.


	5. kiss kiss

It was a long night. Day. Week. He’d had a lot of those lately—enough that he’d consider staying in Kyrimorut for longer than a month this time. _Not likely._ Oh well. He at least entertained the idea. No one could ask more of him than that.

Chrono blinked up at him from the corner of his HUD: 4 am. 

_Nice._

The door to the clan home opened without complaint under his codes and he stepped inside.

“You’re in late.”

“Technically,” he un-clipped the travel pack from the straps across his chest and around his shoulders, “I’m early.” He set the pack down with a soft _thump_ and reached out to where he knew his brother stood. He hooked an arm around his shoulders and tapped his helmeted forehead to Boss.

No contact with anyone, or anything, for weeks. It was instant relief. He wondered why Boss didn’t complain.

“You keep weird hours.” The HUD didn’t distort the close-up, but it certainly messed with his sense of balance.

“ _Dikute_ like you come in at weird hours. Interferes with my beauty sleep.”

Stunned, for the first time in a long time, Mereel blinked lamely at his screen. Then, before he could reign it in _—never again, never volunteering for missions like that again—_ the giggles and the laughs bubbled out of him. Overwhelmed, suddenly, by the knowledge that even this tough _chakaar_ gave a damn, he released Boss to paw at the straps of his helmet. The _buy’ce_ popped up with a hiss and he set it on the table nearby. Then he grabbed him, overly familiar and too affectionate, two hands by the crux of his neck and shoulders.

Boss’ hands automatically went up in surprise, but Mereel moved fast, and smacked a loud one right on the mouth—potentially earned smack in the face be damned.

“I’ll be sure to wear my soft slippers next time, honey.” Mereel grinned as he moved to grab his things.

Boss didn’t seem too amused, either. Oh well. _Worth it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to be honest, I forgot which meme this prompt belonged to lmao but I'm assuming it's a kiss meme


	6. old holovision needs a little love

He’d recovered it for the novelty, having need for something to do with his hands when he’d been commanded to take some downtime for the latest injury.

That he was holed up at Boss’ place spoke volumes to the notion that maybe he didn’t want anyone to come looking for him just yet. That Boss had gone away for a week the day after Mereel arrived, Mereel didn’t think too hard about, either.

It wasn’t like he’d let the man know beforehand he was planning to crash. He just sort of … showed up.

And had to find  _something_ to entertain himself. Hence: the holovision. It seemed like a simple enough project, and all the materials he needed he found, easily.

All the tech was simple and the internal mechanics straightforward enough to understand. So he took this old, over-sized thing, and upgraded it. Made it functional, more than just an outdated hunk of tech that, in other homes—that he’d heard of, anyway—was no better than a side stand.

Really, Mereel had gutted and replaced everything, and only kept the frame.

He really hadn’t meant to stay that long: long enough for Boss to come back and find him still there.

Boss’ surprise that evening, though.

That was something else.

Tucked up against him on the couch, feet propped up on the old holovision with the screen faced away from them, so it could project the film they queued up on far wall in high definition.

Mereel guessed the man had been planning to junk the thing.

He didn’t really get a chance to ask. Not with the way the commando seemed to want to ignore the movie partway through, and do his own sort of  _work_ on Mereel.

The Null would just have to ask in the morning.


	7. kiss kiss under water

There was always something about fishing that never failed to sooth him—or, maybe, it was just being near the water that helped calm his rattled heart. Being out over open water of a lake on Mandalore, the weather the warmest its been in months that a swim called to him, and Mereel couldn’t think of anything he’d rather do.

That it was Boss’ suggestion, well.

He pulled his pole back, quitting on the fishing for the day. Boss turned to look at him, silent as he watched Mereel stand.

Off came the shirt—because of course.

“Mer—”

Next came the splash as he stood and dove cleanly into the water.

The cool of the lake hit him immediately, conflicting with the heat of the day that steadily encroached while he was boat side. Though where they were stationed on the lake wasn’t quite deep enough to be of major concern … his leg was still not quite right, and as he moved through the water he wondered if he would ever be.

Of course, Boss took that moment to follow in suit, and shatter his thoughts as easily as the surface of the water.

Surprised—he’d be lying if he said he was expecting him to join in—Mereel ceased his swimming to tread water, feet just barely grazing the bottom. He took an easy breath, waiting for Boss to show—

and a hand jerked him under.

_“Os—!”_

Churning water filled his vision with bubbles. A face so similar yet so unlike his own neared faster than he could register, and suddenly lips were on his. The tension he felt at the back of his neck spiked sharply down, and he broke the kiss.

And, just as suddenly, the isolation of the lake came as a relief. He swam back and Boss followed, to where it was shallow enough to stand, and Mereel stopped. He breathed, shaky, ignoring the dull ache that ground at him from his still-healing thigh, and turned to face the other man.

_“Jate?”_ Boss asked, the concern written clear across his expression.

Mereel reached forward, hands easily finding the waist of Boss’ slacks, and pulled him forward. _“Jate.”_


End file.
